


A Rainbow of Colors

by Multishipper13



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multishipper13/pseuds/Multishipper13
Summary: What if Bruce was the first human Lantern, not Hal? And what if he was Batman when the ring chose him? How would he cope with being two heroes at once?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have never read a story about Lantern!Bruce, and as soon as I realized this I was like, "What if Bruce was the first human Lantern, not Hal? And what if he was Batman when the ring chose him? How would he cope with being two heroes at once?" and I just had to write it into a fic. Anyway, this'll eventually be BatLantern, but not for a while.

Bruce was in full Bat regala, driving the Batmobile through the night. He was on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, following a lead on an arson case. He glanced up at the clear sky, blinking in surprise as he saw a comet streaking through the atmosphere, leaving a trail of red and yellow flames in its wake. _Odd,_ he thought, _There were no meteor warnings for this month._ "Computer, zoom in on that meteorite," he barked at the automobile's AI. By the time he had a good look at it, the thing had gotten quite a bit closer. This time, Bruce nearly gasped-it wasn't a rock, it was an escape pod, and it was headed-

straight for him.

As soon as he came to this conclusion, he stepped on the gas pedal, grimly calculating his chances of getting out of the impact zone. A second later, the ground shook, a cloud of dust erupting like a column of lava. He climbed out of the overturned Batmobile, coughing for a minute before his cowl's filter began to work, a panel of glass sliding up to cover his mouth. He strode through the dust, stopping dead when he saw a pale humanoid form clad in green. Bruce knelt, carefully disentangling the being from his(her?) craft.

The being's eyes opened briefly, and he(she?) rasped, "Tell Sinestro he was right...Parallax...has risen." then his(her?) eyes glazed over, leaving Bruce slightly confused.

A green ring slid of the being's finger and said in a metallic voice, " _Green Lantern of sector 2814 deceased. Searching sector for replacement._ " It pivoted, then zoomed towards Bruce who attempted to bat it away. However, it eventually found a gap and flew onto his finger. It hummed briefly, startling him, then a voice resonated in his head. " _Bruce Wayne of Earth, you have been chosen to be a Green Lantern for your ability to overcome great fear and willpower._ " He scowled at the ring, trying to tug it off.

"Get off, you stupid thing!" he nearly yelled at it, glaring, "I'm already Batman, I don't have time for this Teal Nightlight nonsense." Unfortunately, the ring seemed to have a mind of its own as it flew into the mangled spacecraft, dragging him along. It stopped in front of a green lantern, as if telling him to pick it up. Sighing, he did, turning it over. He paused when he saw an inscription on the side.

" _In Brightest Day,_

_In Blackest Night._

_No evil shall_

_escape my sight._

_Let those who_

_Worship evil's might,_

_Beware my power_

_Green Lantern's light!_ "

He read out loud. Then he nearly screamed in pain as a green light engulfed him. A second later, the light receded, leaving him wearing a suit similar to the dead alien's. He stood, blinking, and almost jumped when he saw a giant fish-like being floating(how was that even possible?) in front of him, clad in green, a green ring on its finger.

"Interesting," it commented, "I did not know that it was possible for a human to survive this process. After all, you are a young species," It noticed Bruce's curious, if slightly wary look and said, "I am Tomar-Re, Lantern of sector 2813."

Bruce sighed. "What is a Green Lantern?" he asked.

"A Green Lantern is a sentient being who wields the green light of willpower,"Tomar-Re replied, "We are something of a[ _closest translation: galactic police-force_ ]," he gestured for Bruce to follow him. "Come. You must be getting back to your own sector, yes?"

"Wait!" Bruce said, "The Lantern who crashed in my sector said something about Parallax rising, they said I was supposed to tell...Sinestro?" Tomar-Re stiffened, then relaxed, though Bruce could tell that the latter was forced. The alien continued walking to the edge of the path, before simply walking off of the edge. A second later, he rose, gliding to a stop at the edge of the drop. "You can fly?" Bruce asked wonderingly.

"Yes, the ring helps with that," Tomar-Re replied.

"How do I get back to my...sector?" Bruce inquired.

"Ask the ring to take you back," the alien stated, then flew away towards a large building. Bruce shrugged. Talking out loud to a glowing green ring didn't seem to be too odd after the other events of the day(night?)

"Ring, take me home." he commanded. A second later, he was racing through the not-so icy vacuum of space like a human nightlight.

When he landed back on Earth, Bruce contemplated how he was going to juggle being three people at once. Two was hard enough as it was. Perhaps he could have Jason and Barbara keep an eye on Gotham for him? _Yes_ , he decided, _That is probably the best plan of action._ He took a minute to flip the Batmaobile over using a construct, then continued on towards the last known location of the arsonist.

* * *

On a dark, forgotten planet near the edge of existence, a mighty yellow being's reptilian eyes flickered open. It had sensed a large concentration of its mortal energy come into being-willpower. For with willpower, one could overcome fear, and Parallax was a living embodiment of the emotion. It knew though, that to try and crush this being with brute power would not work- instead it would only make it stronger. It would lay a trap, weaving an elaborate web. It would sow its seeds into the being's mind, then allow its physical self to be destroyed. After all, what was the price of flesh compared to eradicating the presence of its greatest and ruling every being in existence?

* * *

On eight other planets forgotten by time, other beings of the emotional spectrum began awaken. The first to rise was The Butcher, a giant demonic red bull. It had felt a great rage emanating from a small blue and green planet. Though its own corps had been destroyed long ago, it knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was where it would start anew.

* * *

The second to rise was Ion, a huge green wale. It to, had felt the same being as The Butcher, but it had also felt the willpower contained within this being.

* * *

Third to wake was Adara, an enormous blue bird; it to had felt the same being, though it had felt hope.

* * *

Fourth to awaken was Proselyte, a deep indigo cephalopod, the embodiment of compassion. It had also felt the same being, though it had not felt rage, willpower or hope, but compassion.

* * *

Fifth to gain awareness was Predator, a shapeless, unrestricted embodiment of the emotion love; it too had felt the being the others had sensed, though from it it had felt an unrestrained love.

* * *

Sixth to rise was Nekron*, a black widow. It had felt the death surrounding this being like a blanket, and was drawn to it.

* * *

Seventh was Ophidian, the spectral orange snake of avarice. It had sensed the being's greed for the ability to show emotion, and was fascinated by a being not greedy for something material. It, like Nekron, was drawn to the being.

* * *

The last to waken was The Entity, an embodiment of life(the universe, everything and Belgium). It, like Predator, had no shape. It purred as it felt its children** nearing the one who would be the first to be able to draw upon its power. It curled back into a small ball of light to wait for its children to join.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is in 1st person, because I've gotten bored of only writing 3rd person, and is in present tense. Also, this ignores canon unless specifically stated otherwise, because canon's way to messed up. For the sake of the story, Bruce's been the Bat for 6 or so years, and he has adopted Dick, who is Nightwing(he is 19 and lives in 'haven, hence why he hasn't shown up). They're more like siblings than father and son, because of the smaller age gap and he occasionally poses as Batman when Bruce is being held up. Also, I'm going to say Bruce's like 24 years old. Also beta'd by Goldenmoonrider on ff.net

When I finally get back to the Manor, Alfred greets me. I ask him to help me with a matter, and note how his brow furrows slightly at this. It startles me when he almost frowns in confusion; _is it really that unusual for me to request assistance?_ I wonder for Alfred- being the proper English butler he is- rarely shows emotion. He agrees, and tells me that dinner is at eight o'clock, sharp, which is his way of acknowledging that whatever it is is an important matter; usually dinner is at quarter till seven, no exceptions. I disentangle myself from my newest Batsuit- there are many, as they are liable to get ripped, torn, and otherwise mutilated- and, carefully slide the gauntlets off so as not to trigger the miniature batarangs. Last time they flew into a glass display case. As punishment, Alfred burned my breakfast for a week; setting off those batarangs was the last thing I wanted to do now. I draw a steadying breath, preparing myself for the imminent conversation with Alfred, and sending a prayer towards the heavens that he doesn't decide that accepting an alien power ring from a dying alien counts as a punishable offense.

"Alfred," I begin, forcing myself to not fidget, something I only managed to master during my time training with the League of Shadows, "I have a...problem," the word sticks in my throat, as I am unused to admitting my problems, even to myself.

He raises an eyebrow, a clear signal to continue.

I do, fervently hoping that I survive this conversation, "I, ah, seem to have...acquiredan, ah, alien power ring that possesses unknown capabilities."

This time, he does frown, an action so terrifying that for a moment I feel the urge to run screaming towards the hills, before he slowly speaks. "Master Bruce, how did you come into possession of this...ring?"

I relate the incident to him, tensely awaiting his verdict once I finish.

His only question is one that I myself have been pondering; If I do decide to go along with this and join the Green Lantern Corps, how will I balance it with my civilian persona, as well as Batman?

"Dick and Babs can cover for me," I reply, "After all," I reason, "Gotham can survive without me."

Alfred's face betrays no emotion, though I can tell from the way he says, "I am pleased to learn that you trust them," that my meals will remain safe, for now.

* * *

The next night, I command the ring to take me to the Corps headquarters, which turns out to be a plant by the name of Oa. It is a tropical planet, with lush, vibrant green flora that would make even Poison Ivy jealous, and fauna ranging from odd, insectoids the size of a bee to giant, lumbering, warm-blooded lizard like creatures with feather wings that propel them across the azure sky. When I touch down, I am greeted by a onion-like Lantern, who directs me towards the training area. I walk briskly towards the building, trying to ignore the way that the green and black unitard makes me feel underprotected; I give up within seconds, willing the ring to change it into something slightly more protective. What I end up with is something similar to what I once wore during my time with the League. I wind up adding a cloak as well, as I have grown accustomed to it while in full Bat regala. Though it may seem impractical, a cloak can save your life, if used properly. I stride towards the training area, my steps measured and light, so as not to alert others of my presence-an unconscious habit from my admittedly short time training with the All Caste*. Briefly stopping outside of the doors, I make sure that my heart rate is beating steadily, a sign that I feel no fear. Then, I step through the doors, head held high. Within, chaos meets my eyes. It seems that someone had, at one point, attempted to divide the large gymnasium into four sections-one for long range weapons, one for hand-to-hand combat, one for short range weapons, and one for fighting with glowing green constructs-though it seems to have devolved into a free-for-all battle. I let out a huff of air-for, frankly, they rely far too much on their rings. A giant alien- _Bolivaxian,_ the ring supplies- sees me, jollily calling for me to join the fray. I do, and, utilising a mixture of martial arts, ring-generated bat-weapons, and swords, within minutes have beaten all fifty-odd opponents**. The drill sergeant, who called me over to start with, gapes at me, seemingly at a loss for words. I sheath my swords-which had been, up until now, hidden within the folds of my cloak-and glance at him.

"What?" I snap, "It was not a fair fight. They were barely trained at best, relied far too much on their unimaginative constructs, and were going up against the only being to ever have beaten Ra's al Ghul."

The alien, who introduces himself as Kilowog through gales of laughter at the, "poor unfortunates who thought they even had the barest hint of a chance," congratulates me, and pulls up out a small com, not dissimilar to a walkie-talkie- an invention that Babs was obsessed with- and barks something into it, too fast for me to hope to be able to translate into English without the proper recording tools- I refuse to become dependant on the ring- and grins, showing far too many teeth, and says, "Alright, ye poozer, let's see how ye hold up against our best Lantern, eh?"

I unsheathe a titanium katana, twirling it in my hand, then slash experimentally to see if it is still balanced. I, too, grin a grin that is more like a feral animal baring its teeth, and growl, "Bring it on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So what if this didn't happen? It should have, so in this fic it will  
> **Remember, these are untrained, new recruits. Bruce could probably take on fifty trained and survive, but he probably wouldn't win.  
> And next chapter, Lantern Wayne will duel with the best the Corps has to offer- Ahh, ah, ah, you'll just have to guess and wait for the next chapter, telling you now would just ruin the suspense!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this took to update-we have guests over for the rest of the month, so this will probably be my last update until July 10th. This was beta'd by Goldenmoonrider, as per usual.

The- supposedly- greatest Lantern is- dare I say it- fuchsia. This should not surprise me, but it does, in a the-world-has-thrown-weird-stuff-at-me-so-I-laugh-at-the-less-weird-stuff-in-an-attempt-to-compensate sort of way. Nevertheless, I don a mask of emotionlessness that would make even Alfred proud. My opponent, who is indeed fuchsia, does not, a sneer tugging at his lips. This, for reasons unknown, makes me liken him to a wet cat- perhaps it is the look of utter disdain?- and I wonder, in a moment of inaneness, weather he practices the look in a mirror. He looks at Kilowog.

"This is the being that you want me to duel with?" he asks contemptuously. "There is barely a sliver of a chance that any human could hold up against me in a duel for more than four seconds."

This rubs me the wrong way, and I snarl, "You want to test that theory?"

He smirks condescendingly, "If only to taste your fear as you are beaten."

Kilowog looks at both of us with a concerned expression, as if afraid we'd explode, reducing him, and everyone with a two-thousand kilometer radius, into ashes.

I ignore it, and ask my opponent, "Weapons only, no constructs?"

"Yes," he agrees, pulling out his own blade, "It'll be fun to watch you be humiliated."

Kilowog sighs, but says, "On your marks, get set, go!"

We leap at each other, slashing, jabbing, and praying, evenly matched. Eventually, both of us are breathless, neither having gained ground or lost any, at an impasse.

"You are...acceptable." he decides, brow beaded with perspiration.

I take that as a compliment and reply, "You aren't half bad, yourself."

"What is your name, human?" he inquires.

"Lantern Wayne of Earth," I reply, "And you?"

"Lantern Sinestro of Korugar." he responds, "You are the one who Abin Sur's ring chose, correct?"

"Yes, you knew him?"

"I did. He was a close acquaintance," Sinestro says.

"My condolences," I reply, "The news must have been...saddening."

"Indeed," Sinestro agrees, "A truce is in order, I think?"

The other Lanterns in the gymnasium, excluding the Bolivaxian, gape at us, though I can not fathom why.

"Of course," I say, "After all, you are the only being I have been unable to defeat in on-on-one combat."

"Likewise," Sinestro concurs, extending a hand, "Perhaps it would benefit both of us to train together?"I shake it, wondering why the others suddenly look like fish out of water.

"Tomorrow at seven, then?" I inquire, "If you are free, that is?"

"I am not busy at that time," Sinestro replies.

"Good," I say, "See you then."

* * *

Predator sniffs the air- it has sensed something from the one it has Chosen. There is a small strand of purple, faint, yes, but there nonetheless. Its Chosen has not yet become aware of it, but the embodiment of love can see it- after all, it is literally the personification of love, and there would be no hope for love if the freaking embodiment of the emotion couldn't sense it. That is beside the point, though. Predator, no matter what form it takes(there was that memorable occasion when it posed as Eros) absolutely loves playing matchmaker almost as much as it loves drama and tragedies. So naturally, it would gravitate towards potential relationships that would end in disaster- there's a very good reason for the fact that there have only ever been two Star Sapphires who weren't total heartbreakers. It swam, like a big, pink cloud, towards its target: two Green Lanterns. However, it didn't account for the fact that the Entity had a different relationship planned for a certain Lantern with a bat-fetish by night. So, it continued on blissfully, unaware that it was soon going to get a _nasty_ shock.

* * *

Meanwhile, Parallax cursed- or didn't, as it couldn't speak, as it didn't have a host body- as it felt its specimen's willpower quintuple. This would make it slightly harder for it to posses the specimen's body. And, to make it's mood fouler, Ion had drawn, using green bubbles shaped like whales, "Na-na-na-na-na-na-na!" Right. In. His. Path. To say Parallax was royally pissed would be the understatement of thirty millennia.

* * *

Nekron was confused. Where was the death? It could not find the being that was dogged by death, and various life forms on this planet full of painful, painful life had tried. To. Eat. Him. Him, Death Itself! Nekron briefly contemplated returning to his forgotten planet. At least there nothing was trying to eat him.

* * *

Adara, on the other hand- or wing, or paw, or flipper, whatever you happen to have- was a ray of sunshine and hope. Its chosen being was practically bathed in blue. She chirped excitedly as her Chosen's aura of blue tripled size. Then she went back to relocating the poor beached dolphins back into the water.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 100% unbeta'd- but I have a good reason. When I sent the DoX format to my beta, Goldenmoonrider on Fanfiction.net, they sent back a PM that said, and I quote, "I applaud you, my fair writer! I was shedding tears of joy throughout reading this chapter; it's beautifully composed! I love the bit of humor you put in...I have nothing to fix in this chapter, it's absolutely beautiful! I cannot contain my excitement. Okay, must compose myself for the pupil... deep breaths, deep breaths... Alright, well, I will say this for sure: Your writing has absolutely blossomed since I began Beta-Reading for you. You're doing great, so keep up the amazing work!" needless to say, I was very excited- so, here you go!

"I'm sorry, did you say you've never heard of the Punic Wars?" I exclaim, startling Sinestro.

"Yes?" He says with a touch of uncertainty, most likely due to the fact that I look murderous.

"This," I say, furiously shaking my fist at the planet in general, and the Guardians in specific, "Is unacceptable. If the Guardians haven't seen fit to educate you, then I suppose that I'll have to teach you myself."

"By all means, educate me, oh wise Earthling," Sinestro says deadpan.

Ignoring him, I begin, "The first Punic ("Latin for Phoenician?" "Yes, now let me talk.") War was started when the Romans had the foresight ("Paranoia?" "No, it's foresight if you're right.") to realize that they could run out of food fairly quickly at the rate their population was growing ("Or maybe they were just greedy." "Well that's how history tells it and as I haven't invented a time machine yet, this is the version I'm sticking to.") so they looked across the waters and saw ("Costco!" "Shut up narrate, you stupid author.") Carthage's granaries ("Noodles!" "If you don't shut the hell up...") on Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica and decided that these were exactly what they needed to make sure no-one starved. There was the teeny-tiny matter of these already belonging to Carthage ("As much as something could belong to you back then...") which the Romans decided to solve in the same way most people those days solved things: ("Chocolate?" "You. Will. Die.") War. However, Carthage being a Phoenician settlement had really good naval skills, as well as superior boats as opposed to the Romans who did better at hand to hand combat. However, the Romans got lucky- they found a fairly intact Carthaginian ship that had been wrecked and beached on an Italian shore. Using this as a base, they improved it, adding a corvus- basically a movable bridge with a giant metal spike at one end- to it, which they would lower onto a Carthaginian vessel, allowing soldiers to board it and turning a sea battle into hand to hand combat. Needless to say, Rome won and got the granaries on Corsica, Sicily, and Sardinia ("And it only took them 23 years!" "You should be glad that if I kill you, this story would end and I'd be stuck forever."). The second lasted seventeen years and was lead by Carthage's version of Alexander the Great, Hannibal Barca, son of the war general Hamilcar Barca, who wanted to get back at the Romans by destroying Rome. He took more than twenty-five elephants with him to help raze Rome to the ground. However, he made the stupid decision to attack Rome from the north, which meant going through the Alps. The elephants, not being accustomed to the cold, died. Hannibal also lost half of his men. But, he still had enough manpower to wreak havoc on the rest of the Roman empire. Rome, growing desperate, sent an army to attack Carthage and draw Hannibal away from Rome. This worked, and he took his army back to Carthage, only to be defeated for the first time ever at Zama and lose the war. The third Punic War lasted three years and was started because Carthage made a trade deal with Corinth. Rome was paranoid about Carthage gaining power, so they went and burnt it to the ground, plowed salt into the soil so no-one could grow anything there, killed anyone who resisted and took the rest as slaves. Then, Corinth made the stupid choice to demand recompense for the trade deal from Rome. Rome went and conquered Corinth and decided they wanted the rest of Greece and conquered it. The end."

"You humans are fairly violent for such fragile beings." Sinestro observes, "as well as dim."

"Hey!" I yelp, offended, "I'll have you know, us 'fragile, dim beings' invented the Holy Grail of all foods: Peanut Butter Chocolate Tillamook Ice-Cream."

"I have never heard of this...'Peanut Butter Chocolate Tillamook Ice-Cream' of yours."

"Now that, my friend, is a fatal mistake," I proclaim somberly, "It must be rectified immediately." I concentrate hard, willing the ring to create a portal that will transport a tub of the aforementioned commodity into my hands. As if by magic ("Ma-gic, ma-gic-" "It's just science we don't yet understand, honestly."), a small green disk appears over my outstretched hands and swirls for a moment before a tub of unopened ice-cream is slowly disgorged. Sinestro stares at my hands like they've turned into tentacles. "Do you have spoons?" I ask.

"T-that should be- should be impossible." he says shakily.

"Oh," I say calmly, "I thought it could make anything you imagine." I hand him a transparisteel ("Mwhahahaha, Star Wars!" "You're confusing the poor readers.") spoon that was sitting on the table and, popping the lid off of the container of sugary goodness, say, "Dig in."

-

Apparently, the ring not only protects you from the vacuum of space, it lets you create wings that you can fly through space at light-speeds with. Who knew? It only takes me forty-two minutes to reach Earth, and when I do, I touch down in a graveyard. Bending over a simple white headstone with an elaborate engraving, I drop a single, blood-red and midnight-black flower, which I obtained while exploring a different solar-system, one uninhabited by sentient life, on the soil, arranging it so that it stands upright, leaning against the marble. For a moment, I can almost hear Jason's voice as he laughs, cracking some inane joke. Then the breeze picks up, and the setting sun reminds me that I must return to Gotham. "Auf Wiedersehen, Kleines Rotkehlchen." I murmur, then stand, leaving the grave-yard bathed in the light of the setting sun.

-

Though the Bat does not see it as he leaves, a tiny tendril of white light reaches out from the flower, burrowing into the ground. It has only one purpose- to bring life to that which is dead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I made it through the first week of school, which means I reward you guys with a chapter!

When Jason awakes, it's to darkness and the crushing weight of the soil piled on top of his coffin. The air is sterile, having been trapped in here for more than six months. Well, not totally dark- there's a sliver of white light sticking out of his chest, pumping life into his once-dead body. He can feel it, and for a moment he doesn't want to move- it's peaceful here, six feet below the ground. 

Then the light dims, flickering, and extinguishes, and Jason can feel his cells collapsing, unable to continue as their life-giving source is gone. Then a glowing green light replaces it, a color unique to the waters of Lazarus Pits, and Jason struggles, preferring death to being revived by the waters of the insanity-inducing Lazarus Pits- but in the end, it's futile; after all, a coffin for a fifteen-year-old, no matter how tall, isn't that wide. The Lazarus-liquid touches him, burning like a hypernova and as cold as absolute zero at once, warping his DNA and he screams until not too much later, when he blacks out from the pain. Sweat glistens on his face as the Lazarus-liquid creates, for the first time, a perfect specimen of an immortal- healing factor, enhanced senses, reactions, and intelligence without the usual Lazarus Pits' effect of driving one into a rage. The only sign of what has happened, once the liquid is fully absorbed into the former Robin, is an unearthly-pale white streak of hair.

* * *

The Entity smiles to itself, pleased with its work. Though using the waters of the main Lazarus Pit was a risk- the boy could have gone insane- it knew that it would have been impossible for it to fully revive a corpse without an alien force to help. And, against all odds, it has worked, though it has no doubt that Jason Todd would learn everything he possibly could in order to ensure that he was never at anyone's mercy ever again, and make sure no-one else ever is, either. Yes, all in all, this is going better than it possibly could have hoped. It wonders which of its children will choose a mortal avatar next, and who it will be. There have been many other realities where things do not go as well and it is determined that this won't be one of them- Earth 3 had been a horrifying mistake, one that it would  _never_ repeat.

* * *

When Jason wakes again, it's a much more messy affair. The darkness, coupled with the small size of the coffin could induce claustrophobia in anyone, and Jason panics- not surprising, seeing as how he's trapped in a small dark space with his last memory being of bleeding out on the ground after the Joker broke nearly every bone in his body with a crowbar. He claws at the lid of his prison until it finally gives, though this action brings down an avalanche of soil onto him, choking him. Blindly, he digs at the dirt for what seems like an eternity until he finally reaches the surface, the breeze tugging at his hair and the sweet air rushing into his lungs. He remembers the feel of the Joker beating him with a crowbar. It had been a night much like this- the sky was clear and the air almost smog-free for once, a rarity in- what he assumes to be- Gotham.

 _Never again,_ he swears,  _I will_ never  _be at anyone's mercy so long as blood still courses through my veins._

* * *

It's a dark and stormy night- okay, maybe he's being dramatic, seeing as how there are only, like, two clouds visible and the sun is rising. Still, 'Dark and stormy night' sounds more ominous than, 'Barely cloudy early morning', and he just came back to life, so  _excuse you,_ he can be as dramatic as he wants. But whatever. Now, what to do, what to do. He could go to B's, but from the newspapers lying about- because, this is Gotham, and screw you if you think Gothamites won't litter- he's got a  _replacement._ It leaves a bitter taste at the back of his tongue and he wonders if this is what Dick felt like when he learned that Jason was replacing  _him._ He could go to that- wait a moment, hit rewind. 

Dick! It's perfect- he and B don't get along too well (or at least, he hopes), he had a soft spot for Jason when he was younger, so all in all, Jason hopes he won't mind if he crashes at one of the blue-clad bird's safe-houses for the night (morning?) before he heads onwards to- actually, making a plan wouldn't be a bad idea. He needs training- he was only Robin for a year and a half, after all- and he's heard whispers of certain groups with incredible powers, who were willing to teach- providing one could find them.

Mind made, he sets off towards Gotham's sister-city, Blüdhäven, home to Nightwing.

* * *

 

When he arrives, he rubs his eyes tiredly. The train ride there had been fairly short- only half an hour, including traffic- and no-one had recognized him, as he'd preferred to be in the news as little as possible. Still, he feels....drained, for lack of a better word, and, so, when he crashes into what he assumes to be the bedroom- though really, at this point, he couldn't care- he doesn't question the faint indigo glow emanating from the side-table before he falls asleep.

* * *

 

Dick Grayson stumbles into safe-house #4, blood dripping from the various blade-cuts from an  _especially_ nasty ninja-themed villain, costume torn half to shreds with about a quarter of the icon blue stripe missing. He grabs a medi-packet from a shelf in the kitchen, applying antiseptic and sewing the deeper wounds up and wrapping everything in gauze. He'd been lucky nothing had broken- he had been much too sure that that landing on his shoulder had shattered something, though he supposes that it might simply be a pulled ligament or two. Limping around the kitchen, he silently prepares a small cup of Turkish coffee, the sandy, normally bitter grounds gulped down with the rest of the steaming hot drink. When he's done, he doesn't bother to try and wash the cup out, too tired for the advanced hand-eye coordination required for such a task. 

Walking into the bathroom, he brushes his teeth, inspecting himself in the mirror. His hair is a disheveled mess, and the rings under his eyes are a dark, bruise-like indigo, though nothing that the makeup he keeps for occasions like this won't cover up. Many a time the very same thing had saved him from questioning by his fellow police officers.

By now, he's willing to collapse and sleep on the ground, the only thing that keeps him from doing just that is the thought of how his muscles will ache the following day. So, in order to avoid such a gruesome fate, he goes to open the bedroom door, brow furrowing when he finds it closed.  _Hmm,_ he thinks,  _I thought that I left it wide open this morning. Oh well,_ and opens the door. 

There, lying on the bed is his dead brother Jason. For a moment, his jaw feels like it's about to drop.

Then-

"I must be hallucinating," he concludes. It is a fairly safe assumption, given that he's dog tired, possibly concussed, and surviving on a diet of coffee and adrenaline for.... longer than he cares to remember. He'd make a good Sherlock Holmes, minus the genius for detective work, drinking unknown mixtures, testing things on animals, and, of course, the Detective's moral ambiguity. It wouldn't be the first time he's imagined something that isn't there, and in an attempt to dispell the illusion, he tosses himself at the mattress.

To his surprise, the illusion-Jason is solid, and its eyes snap open, and it lets out a string of curse words.

"Oh," Dick says, "You're real." Then he blacks out.

**Author's Note:**

> *Black widows are deadly, and I wanted to continue the animal theme, so...  
> **I figure that as all of these emotions need life to exist for them to be felt, they are the children of life.


End file.
